Wisdom
by Gerudo Desert
Summary: Torn from everything she held dear when Ganondorf seizes her kingdom, Zelda must find a way to survive while Hyrule crumbles around her. Growing up on the run, under the reign of a vicious tyrant, she has no choice but to fight back while the Hero of Time slumbers. (Contains Zelda as Sheik and small amounts of Zelink.)
1. prolouge

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The earth feels warm beneath her feet. Zelda curls her bare toes in the dirt and grins, tilting her head back to let the sunshine wash over her face.

She is not supposed to be outside the castle walls by herself—not ever. But her eighth birthday is a week away and Papa has the seamstresses working hard on her dress. If Zelda lets them catch her, it'll mean hours of standing perfectly still— _Princess, please don't touch your hair; no, Princess, lunch is not until noon—_ while they drape her with all kinds of different cloth and make her try on uncomfortable shoes.

So when the seamstresses stepped out of her bedroom to gather materials after taking her measurements, Zelda climbed out the window using the thick ivy that grew on the castle's wall, and now she is here, her shoes kicked off and her headscarf discarded, running through the fields with the sun on her face and her hair streaming out behind her. She knows the paths the guards walk while on patrol; Impa made her memorize them in case she ever needed to find a guard for help. It is the easiest thing in the world to skirt the moat and the guards entirely, then climb the hill to get around the main gate.

Castle Town opens up before her like the pop-up books Papa used to read to her, bright and colorful and new. Compared to the solid quiet that is Zelda's life at the castle, this place seems so loud and full of movement everywhere. And there are people everywhere, people with all different clothes and voices and skin colors. She has only ever seen this place through the window of a carriage, surrounded by guards; she thinks she likes it better like this.

Zelda freezes when a guard walks by her, thinking her adventure is over before it really started, but he just gives her a glance and keeps going. She giggles, then; of course he wouldn't recognize the Princess of Hyrule with her hair loose and her feet bare and dirty, wearing the plain tunic and trousers she borrowed (stole) from a servant boy's dresser.

She walks around the market place, her mouth watering at all the food the vendors have on display, but she has no coin with her. She pets the dogs and the Cuccoos wandering around, and tries to talk with the vendors minding their stalls. Most of them just shoo Zelda away, disregarding her as an irritating child—that surprises her. At the castle, everyone stops to listen to what she has to say.

When she stops to peer over the edge of the fountain, though, a redheaded girl about Zelda's age starts to chat with her. Her name is Malon, and she lives on a ranch and has the laziest father in the world. "What's your name?" she asks.

"Carmine," Zelda answers—the name of her history teacher. She tells Malon that her father sells books in a city to the north, and that she is waiting for him to return from picking up new supplies.

"My dad makes me wait too," Malon laughs, and hands her a bottle of milk. The glass bottle feels cool and smooth under her hands in the summer heat, and Zelda likes the sound of the cork popping open. The milk is warm and creamy and rich; it tastes of adventure. She thanks her new friend and promises to come back soon.

Somehow, she ends up away from the crowds and the vendors' stalls. Here, only one building looms before her, almost swallowed up by the trees surrounding it. Zelda knows her castle is much greater in size, but somehow this place seems bigger, with its huge dark windows and old stone walls. It scares her a little, and she holds her breath as she pushes open the doors, curious to know what dwells within.

Inside is all black and white and grey, with the only color coming from the golden Triforce symbol emblazoned high up on the far wall. Zelda walks forward, her hands twitching at her sides uncertainly, and stares at the empty pedestal, at the stained-glass windows, at the stairs leading up to a massive door, sealed shut.

She has a rush of feelings she doesn't understand; regret, longing, sadness. She doesn't know this place, but she feels like it knows her, and that puts enough fear in her heart to make her take a shaky step back.

"Princess!"

The voice rings out suddenly, startling her, but it's only Impa, striding towards her from the doorway with her hands fisted at her side. Zelda bites her lip; she knows she's in trouble, but she is a little glad to see her guardian in this unfamiliar place.

"What are you doing out here?!" Impa demands, but through the fury Zelda can hear her relief.

Suddenly she feels bad for running away. "I didn't want to get fitted for a dress," she admits.

"Great Sheikah Eye," Impa groans, rubbing her forehead. "You know you can't be out on your own. The world is a dangerous place, Princess."

"I know," Zelda says meekly, reaching for her guardian's hand. "I'm sorry." Impa softens and wraps Zelda's hand with hers, calloused and rough and warm.

"Don't do that again, you hear?" she says as they walk out of the building. "Dress fittings may be boring, but nothing so trivial is worth risking your life. You only do that for the things that truly matter. Are you listening?"

Zelda is listening, halfheartedly, but mostly she is looking back at the mark of the Triforce on the wall. "What is this place?" she asks.

"The Temple of Time," Impa replies as they step out into the sunlight and let the doors click shut behind them. "You know, your birthday ball will not be as bad as you expect it to be."

Zelda thinks of how the cook always makes her favorite foods, and how the cake is huge and frosted in pink, Zelda's favorite color. Nobles come from all over to shower her with gifts and compliments. Maybe Princess Ruto, who is funny and daring, and her quirky father will be there. Or Darunia, the big Goron chief with a laugh like an earthquake. Maybe Papa will let her invite Malon.

Zelda lets Impa lead her away while her mind drifts off to happier things. Still, before they turn the corner, she casts one more look at the temple where her destiny lies in wait, like a panther crouched before the kill.

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 **notes 1:** Hi and welcome to my new fic, **Wisdom!** I am planning to do somewhere between 15 and 20 chapters, unless things get out hand. Which they often do. The rest of the story will be written in past tense, except for the epilogue.

 **notes 2:** There will probably be some Zelink in here (because I can't help myself) but not any kind of fleshed-out romantic relationship. Also, if Zelda seems rather mature for her age, that's because she's a princess. She has been taught to act like an adult.

 **disclaimer:** The Legend of Zelda is not mine.


	2. the visitors

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Zelda folded her hands in her lap and sat up straight, trying not to look as bored as she felt. Her throne, smaller than her father's but every bit as uncomfortable, was placed on a carpeted dais at the head of the grand hall. Even at ten, she was expected to attend court every day to learn the ways of ruling. Some days were fascinating—full of foreign dignitaries travelling to treat with Hyrule and quarrels over money or land or resources. Today was just the dull complaints of nobles and commoners alike.

A noblewoman stood before the throne, going on and on about how insulted her son was that a lady had refused his hand in marriage. Most of the court was ignoring her, talking amongst themselves instead, while the king listened in the stony silence that was famed throughout Hyrule.

"Goddesses," Impa muttered from where she stood at the arm of Zelda's throne. "This woman does not know when to quit."

"And her son was too scared to show," Zelda whispered back. "Or too embarrassed." Impa disguised her laugh as a cough.

A guard slipped inside the throne room and wove through the crowd until he reached the king. Zelda watched her father's face as the guard murmured in his ear; as usual, he didn't show any emotion in front of the court. He just nodded once as the guard departed, then raised his hand and called, "Enough."

The crowd's chattering halted, as did the noblewoman's torrent of complaints. "Your Majesty?" she floundered.

"With all due respect, Lady Beatrice, your son's rejection is not a matter of national importance. You must work out this matter on your own. Now, I must meet with our newest visitor in private."

The noblewoman gave an insolent huff and turned away with a swirl of her silken skirts, storming out of the room. The court began to follow, most of them looking relieved to be done. The king turned in his throne to look at Zelda, smiling the smile that he saved just for her. "Bored yet?"

Zelda rolled her eyes. "I was bored before we started, Papa."

He chuckled. "Such is the life of the rich and powerful."

"Your Majesty," began one of the advisors, "should Lady Beatrice be left alone? She was rather disrespectful, after all, thinking it is your responsibility to fix a teenage boy's broken heart."

The king waved his hand dismissively. "She is a possessive mother who likes to make her problems known, nothing more. She won't be any trouble. By the way, did I not say I wanted to speak to our next guest in private?"

The advisor frowned, exchanging confused glances with his colleagues. Zelda was surprised, too—her father never sent away the most prominent members of his court. As they filed out of the room, she gathered her skirts and stood from the throne.

"You may stay, Zelda," her father said. "You as well, Impa."

She settled back into her seat, thoroughly curious now. "Who is our guest, Papa?"

"His name is Ganondorf, the King of the Gerudo."

Zelda's mouth fell open in an unladylike fashion. She was about to ask more questions when the great doors swung open and a figure strode in, a long crimson cape sweeping behind him. He had the dark skin, fiery hair, and sharp nose characteristic of the Gerudo. Zelda had only met a few of his people in her life, considering how tumultuous the relations between their people were, and all of them had been women. The visitor dropped into an exaggerated bow, lowering his head dramatically before the king.

"You may rise," Zelda's father said. "Welcome, Lord Ganondorf."

The Gerudo drew himself up, his eyes scouring the room—from the tapestries on the walls to the guards, the thrones, the king, Impa. His gaze lingered on Zelda last of all, and she saw that his eyes were cool green, with something dark hidden underneath. _Evil eyes,_ Zelda thought, and shivered. Impa laid a hand on her shoulder.

"I am pleased to be here in your glorious city, Your Majesty," Ganondorf said, his eyes finally shifting away from Zelda. "My people want nothing more than a peaceful alliance with Hyrule."

Zelda's hands tightened into fists, her throat going dry with disbelief. She looked at her father, hoping that Ganondorf was lying, hoping that he didn't truly intend to treat with this man and his band of thieves.

The king leaned forward in his throne, an amiable smile gracing his lips. That scared her even more. "Hyrule feels the same."

Ganondorf grinned back, revealing his yellowed teeth. He pinned his eyes on Zelda, and she felt very, very cold.

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Hyrule Castle was a shrunken, blurry shape in the hazy world of Zelda's dreams. She stood in the field outside of Castle Town, knee-deep in grass that whispered when the wind blew through it. Her feet were bare against the warm summer earth, reminding her of a day two years ago when she'd tried to go on an adventure.

She walked towards the drawbridge, gathering her nightgown in her hands to keep it from snagging on the stalks of grass. _This is a future-dream,_ Zelda realized; she'd been having them for as long as she could remember. They always felt different than the normal ones—stronger, somehow. _Realer_. Still, there was a muted softness to them that separated them from her waking hours.

There were clouds gathering on the horizon to her left. She recalled the maps her geography teacher had pounded into her brain and realized they were to the northwest, where Gerudo Desert lay. Zelda picked up the pace, not wanting to get drenched out in the field, even if this was just a dream. The storm clouds were rolling in so quickly it was unnatural and frightening—now they looked more like fog, drifting over the hills and trees, blacking them out from Zelda's vision. The fog spilled over the walls of Castle Town, the walls that had always made Zelda feel safe, until she could no longer see the castle.

And still, the shadows kept spreading, hungry and implacable. They were coming towards _her._

 _It's just a dream_ , Zelda reminded herself, but her feet were stumbling backwards anyway, and she turned and ran. The grass whipped at her arms and legs as she sped through it, catching on her nightgown, slowing her down. Her foot caught on a root, and she went down hard, earning herself a mouthful of dirt. She shot to her knees, trying to pry her foot loose, but it was too late.

The darkness swamped her, surrounded her, wiping out everything else. There was no sun or sky or Hyrule; just Zelda, whimpering as she finally tore her foot free. All around her was silence and fear and shadows. She crawled forward on her hands and knees, feeling nothing but the hammering of her heart against her chest.

"Impa!" she cried out. "Papa! Help!"

Suddenly a column light erupted in the distance, glowing a brilliant green—green like the grass and the trees of Hyrule. The shadows began to lift, falling away as the light billowed over the land and chased away the fear. And in the east, Zelda could see a figure holding aloft a shining stone, from which the light was pouring forth. Above the figure's head hovered a blue light—a fairy.

That was all she saw before the dream faded around her.

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"Please, Papa," Zelda said again, leaning forward and holding the arms of her chair tight. "Please don't treat with Ganondorf."

Her father sighed, and the way his quill scratched harshly on the parchment showed his irritation with the conversation. The wide windows of his private study filtered in morning light—Zelda loved mornings, ordinarily, but the previous night's horrors had left her drained and terrified.

"Zelda," the king began, his tone stuck somewhere between patience and annoyance, "dreams are dreams. The reality is this: fighting the Gerudo does no good for either of our peoples. Securing this alliance will save lives and resources."

"I understand that. It's Ganondorf who scares me. He is going to take over Hyrule! That's what the dream means!"

"Sweetheart, go back to bed. You shall feel better after a few more hours of sleep." He looked past Zelda to where Impa stood by the doorway, his eyes giving her an unspoken command.

Zelda twisted around in her chair to look at Impa. "Tell him," she pleaded. "Tell him that Hyrule is in danger!"

Impa dropped her hands from her hips, giving the king a short bow. "Your Majesty," she started. "Prophecy is a gift that runs deep in your bloodline. Your daughter's dreams have come to pass before. I believe that—"

"The Sheikah's duty is to protect, Impa. Not to theorize. Bring Zelda to her chambers. That is an order."

Impa's mouth was a thin, grim line. Her crimson eyes settled on Zelda's father for a long moment, some emotion shrouded within that Zelda did not understand. Eventually, she nodded and put a hand on Zelda's shoulder.

"Come, Princess," she murmured gently. "We will find no help here."

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The boy had a round face and a soft mouth, and when he spoke his voice was quiet and solemn. The fairy hovering above his shoulder did most of the talking. His forest-green clothes were rough and homespun, and his arms and legs were covered in scrapes and bruises. There was something uncertain about the way he held himself, but Zelda sensed strength and willpower in him, too.

"I am Zelda," she told him, giving him a curtsy that would please her etiquette teacher. "Princess of Hyrule. What is your name?"

"Link," he said in his gentle voice. Zelda was overwhelmed by a rush of feeling so vivid and powerful that she nearly took a step back. When she looked into his eyes, the breath caught in her throat. They were blue, as blue as the sky, as blue as her own. There was a whisper at the back of her mind of memories long forgotten, of legends and destinies, of an eternity of lifetimes spent with her soul bonded to his.

Zelda took a breath to steel herself and said, "I need your help."

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	3. the storm

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Even weeks after he was gone, Zelda's mind stayed with Link. At breakfast she was wondering where he was and what he was doing; during her lessons she was hoping for his success in finding the Spiritual Stones; through the long hours of court she was contemplating the strange sense of familiarity she'd felt with him. Even before she went to bed each night, she would look out the window across the rolling plains of Hyrule and pray for his safety.

Ganondorf grew ever closer to the king. He'd been at the castle for several weeks now, and Zelda—forbidden from their meetings after she'd attempted to deliver her warning—watched through the window as his flattery and false modesty won over her father's trust. She heard murmurings among the council of the king's corruption and weakness, and despite her love for her father, she had trouble disagreeing.

She was able to avoid Ganondorf himself until one night in the library, where she was reading up on Gerudo history by candlelight. The library was empty but for her and Impa, who was a few sections away, hidden from Zelda's view by the towering shelves. Warm summer air blew in from the window, caressing Zelda's face and delivering the scent of rain, and a deep voice before her asked, "Good book?"

Ganondorf was looming over the table, his voice friendly, his face impassive. Zelda inhaled sharply to call for Impa, but Ganondorf held up a hand and suddenly she couldn't breathe. She brought a hand to her throat, trying desperately to pull oxygen into her lungs, but it was almost like it was sealed tight.

"Now, Princess," Ganondorf chastised as he took a seat across from her, leaning back casually. "All I want is a friendly conversation. Will you promise to be quiet?"  
She nodded frantically, and he lowered his hand. Zelda gasped for breath as his magic released her, glaring at him all the while.

"I see you're reading my people's history," Ganondorf mused, reaching across the table to examine the book. "Or, our history as _Hylians_ tell it." His voice was ripe with disgust.

"What do you want?" Zelda demanded. She'd meant to sound fierce, but her voice came out as a frightened squeak instead.

"You are cleverer than your father, aren't you?" he wondered, but never gave her time to answer. "Don't think I haven't seen you watching me at our peace talks."  
"They're not peace talks," Zelda argued. "You're trying—"

"Nowhere in this book," Ganondorf interrupted, "will it tell you of the disparities that exist between our people, Princess. This castle—this _city_ —is overflowing with wealth. Not even your poorest citizens go truly hungry. In my homeland, we are choking on nothing but sand."

"Then ask my father for help," she said. It took all of her effort to keep herself from turning around to look for Impa. "You could come to an agreement that would benefit the Gerudo _and_ Hyrule."  
Ganondorf just snorted at that. "I am tired of agreements. Tired of half-measures." He slid the book across the table towards Zelda and gave her a smile so hungry that she leaned back in her chair, feeling the wood press against her back. "Like it or not, Princess, your fate is entwined with mine."

"Hello, Lord Ganondorf," came Impa's cool voice as she went to stand beside Zelda's chair. Zelda was so relieved she could have wept.

"Ah, Impa," Ganondorf said unflinchingly as he rose from the table. "It's late. I believe I'll retire to my chambers. Good night, Princess."

Impa glared daggers into the back of his skull as he walked away, then looked down at Zelda. "What was that? Are you all right?"

Zelda shoved the book away from her and locked her fingers together to hide their shaking. "He didn't hurt me," she said, to reassure herself more than Impa. But her heart was hammering in her chest. "But I need to speak to my father."

 _Where are you, Link?_

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"Well," the king sighed in defeat, "if it will truly make you feel better, I supposed a few extra guards won't hurt."

Zelda let out a breath. "You won't regret this, Papa." What she really wanted was to see Ganondorf dragged away in chains, but that didn't seem to be an option anymore. At least her father would be safer now.

She passed the new guards on her way out of her father's study—women with hard eyes and skin darkened by the sun, most of their faces hidden in their helmets. The door swung open from the outside just as she reached it, and there stood Ganondorf in his red cape, with his evil eyes glinting.

"Evening, Princess."

"I thought you had retired," Impa said, her voice brittle.

"The king and I have business to discuss," Ganondorf said, striding past her into the room.

"Go to bed, Zelda," her father called. "I'll see you in the morning."

She stepped out into the dark hallway, one of the guards pulling the door closed. Despite the summer warmth, Zelda felt cold as thunder rumbled overhead. She brushed her hand over her waist, feeling the weight of the Ocarina of Time kept secure under her dress by her belt. She'd been carrying it with her since the day after her nightmare.

The guard had left the door open enough that she could see inside the room through a tiny crack. Ganondorf was walking towards the king, his steps heavy. He was saying something, but it was too quiet for Zelda to hear. When he passed by the torch hanging from the wall, the light made something on his clothes gleam—something _metal._ Fear shot through her as her eyes darted to the new guards, to the red hair spilling out from under their helmets.

 _Those guards aren't Hylian_ , Zelda realized just as Ganondorf pulled out a knife and sliced it across her father's throat.

The scream shot up from her belly, searing through her chest and up her throat until it tore its way out of her lips. The king toppled over, blood spilling down the front of his shirt and onto the carpet, as the Hylian guards shouted in outrage. The false guards, the Gerudo, were lunging for at the Hylians as Impa's hands seized Zelda by the shoulders and pulled her away from the door.

"Run!" her guardian barked, grabbing her arm. Zelda stumbled after her, her mind a jumble of shock.

Sobs ripped from her throat as Impa led down a staircase, several pairs of boots pounding on the stone behind them. There was shouting all over the castle, and the terrible screeching of steel on steel. Thunder crashed again outside. "Impa," she gasped. "We have to go back, they hurt Papa—"

"Faster, Princess!"

Impa slammed through a door and into the kitchens. Servants scattered in surprise as they blew past, dodging tables and barrels; Zelda got a glimpse of their pale, frightened faces. The door to the yard burst open before they reached it; two Gerudo blocked their exit, leveling their spears. "Run!" Impa shouted at the servants as she pushed Zelda behind her, drawing two matching daggers.

When the Gerudo on the right thrust her spear forward, Impa jerked to the side and grabbed the spear in the center, wrenching it out of the woman's grasp and swinging it around to slash it across the Gerudo's chest. Zelda cried out as the other Gerudo drove her spear towards Impa's head, but Impa just ducked to avoid the blade and lunged up, slicing her dagger across the enemy's throat like Ganondorf did to the king. Zelda felt spatters of blood land on her face and clothes, hot and sticky.

Impa sheathed her daggers and took Zelda's hand again. "I'm sorry, Princess," she murmured. Zelda choked down hysteria and stepped over the bodies, following Impa out into the yard and into the pouring rain.

No sooner had they reached the entrance to the stables than more pursuers caught up to them—four of them this time. Impa let go of Zelda's hand again as the Gerudo approached, reaching into her pocket to pull out what looked like a small brown nut. Zelda backed up, shaking, her breath coming fast. "Princess, go to the stables and get a horse," Impa ordered, yelling over the rain. "Any horse, as long as it's sound and strong enough to carry both of us. Then come back here immediately. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Zelda said. Just before she turned to go, Impa hurled the strange nut at her opponents, and it shattered it a loud _bang_ , leaving the Gerudo stumbling and confused.

The stables were dark and quiet, almost a world set apart from the chaos in the castle. Zelda picked up the first saddle she could find, staggering under its weight, and cast a wistful glance to the stall across the aisle. It contained her pony, Daisy, a stocky piebald mare twelve hands high. Zelda wanted more than anything to take her, to feel her familiar gait and hear her gentle wicker, but she was too small to carry Impa.

More tears rolled down her cheeks when she turned away from Daisy to a big white gelding several stalls down. This was Champion, the horse her father loved dearly. Zelda thought back to when she'd been small and her father rode behind her on Champion's back, his arms around her, his laugh carried away by the wind. Zelda pushed open the stall door and offered him her hand to sniff, then stood on her toes to heave the saddle onto his back. Her hands were trembling when she fastened the girth and slipped the bridle over his ears, coaxing the bit into his mouth.

For a moment she just stood there, Champion lipping at her shoulder and breathing warm air down her front. Her father would never ride again. Her father was dead.

 _Like it or not, Princess, your fate is entwined with mine._

Rage and grief and disbelief collided in her mind. Zelda chose the rage and pushed the rest down. She lifted her chin and tugged on Champion's reins, leading him out of the stables.

Impa was yanking a dagger out of a dead body when Zelda stepped out into the downpour. She looked at Zelda, then at Champion, and nodded in approval. Lacing her fingers together to make a step, Impa hoisted Zelda up into the saddle, then swung up behind her.

The grand doors to the castle slammed open and Ganondorf himself stormed out, his eyes finding them in an instant. He roared orders at his Gerudo as Impa dug her heels into Champion's flanks. Champion took off in his massive, rolling gallop; Zelda clung tight to his mane to stay on, rain pelting her face. Arrows whizzed past them; Impa thrusted the reins into Zelda's hands so she could draw one of her daggers, knocking arrows out of the air.

As they shot over the drawbridge, light exploded against the castle walls, blinding her temporarily—Ganondorf's magic. Thankfully, Champion knew the way, and he kept tearing down the path. Castle Town's streets were empty, with everyone dry and safe inside their homes. _That won't last,_ Zelda realized, her eyes stinging; even though Ganondorf's coup hadn't reached the civilians yet, she felt certain that it would. As they flew past in a blur towards Hyrule Field, she bade her home a final, silent farewell.

"Lower the drawbridge!" Impa called, shouting over a clap of thunder. By some miracle, it lowered—there must have been some loyal Hylian guards left.

Lightning flashed as they raced across the moat, and Zelda caught a glimpse of a small figure in green— _Link_. Their eyes met and held, and a wordless cry ripped from Zelda's throat. She reached under her dress and pulled out the Ocarina of Time, drawing her arm back and throwing it as hard as she could in his direction.

There was nothing else Zelda could do. She couldn't help him. She couldn't protect her kingdom or her father. She couldn't stop Ganondorf.

All she could do was watch Link disappear from sight as Champion's hooves carried her further and further away from home.

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	4. silent night

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Rain was drumming on the castle roof when Zelda drifted awake from the haze of a nightmare. She could hear the fireplace crackling in front of her bed, and Impa humming low in her throat as she tended to the flames. Zelda pulled the quilts tighter around herself and wondered if she'd left a window open by mistake. It usually wasn't so drafty in her bedroom.

When she opened her eyes, it became impossible to pretend she was home and safe. The walls and ceiling around her were rock, and she lay under one flimsy woolen cloak, not a nest of quilts on her featherbed. When she looked out of the cave's mouth, all she could see was soft morning rain soaking the trees, and Champion, grazing as far as his tether would allow. Impa sat cross-legged in front of a campfire, watching Zelda stir. She wore a dark cloak, and Zelda could see that she'd scratched away at the Sheikah emblem emblazed on her gorget until the eye and the teardrop were no longer recognizable.

Zelda sat up and rubbed a hand over her eyes—they felt swollen from so much crying. She looked down at her torn dress and her dirty hands, and felt numb.

"Where are we?" she asked finally.

"The forest east of the castle," Impa answered. "It's as far as we could get before the horse had to rest. I stopped in a village briefly while you were asleep to buy these." She tossed a bundle of faded clothing into Zelda's lap—a pair of trousers, a tunic, and socks, as well as leather boots, all in muted browns and tans. "Change, and burn the dress. The headscarf, too."

Zelda obeyed, slipping into the scratchy new garments and pulling the scarf from her hair. She held the dress in her hands, staring at the fire, hoping beyond hope that this was all just a terrible dream. _But it's not_ , she reminded herself. _It was a terrible dream that started all of this._

"We'll need to cut your hair," Impa mused, coming to stand behind her. Her hands ran through the tumble of golden locks that reached halfway down Zelda's back. "I am sorry, Princess, but it must be done. Blonde hair is uncommon and memorable, and Ganondorf will be hunting for someone of your description." A shiver ran up her spine at the name. "With shaggy hair and peasant clothes, you can pass for a commoner."

Zelda nodded her agreement and tentatively laid the dress in the fire, kneeling down to watch it catch and blacken and crumble as Impa took a knife to her hair. As she hacked away, strands drifted down to the cave floor, catching in the firelight like golden yarn. It was only hair, but still, Zelda had to take a shuddering breath to compose herself.

"Do you think Link succeeded?" she asked. She thought of that single glimpse she'd caught last night of his face, pale and frightened in the rain as they raced by on Champion. Zelda wondered if that would be the last time they saw each other. Some fierce feeling told her it wouldn't be; the same place inside her that felt as though Link were as familiar to her as her own name.

Impa's hands never paused. "I don't know, Princess."

"We have to find out. If he did…we could still stop Ganondorf."

"Your safety is the priority," Impa replied calmly.

" _Hyrule_ ," Zelda said, in a sharpvoice she had learned from her father, "Is the priority."

"Yes, but without you Hyrule has nothing. No ruler, no royal bloodline, no future, no hope. You survived the coup, Princess. Now you must _keep_ surviving."

Zelda dropped her gaze to the cave floor, nudging a clump of hair with her foot. _You have your mother's hair,_ her father had often told her. _And her wit, too._ Her head felt lighter now, the air hitting her neck in a strange, unfamiliar way. Her voice sounded small and scared when she spoke. "What are we going to do, Impa?"

Her guardian sighed wearily. "For now, find a safe place to stay."

"We could go to one of my cousins," Zelda suggested. "Or to another noble…"

"Those are the first places Ganondorf would look for us."

Of course they were. Zelda thought for a moment. "Zora's Domain," she offered hopefully. "Princess Ruto is my friend…maybe her father would take us in."

"And if Ganondorf found us there, Ruto and her father and countless others would be in danger as well," Impa said gently. "No, we're going to Kakariko for a few days; then we must go into hiding."  
"Kakariko?" Zelda repeated. She knew the history—Kakariko had been home to the Sheikah, but the Civil War had left Impa as the only survivor of her race. Impa opened Kakariko as a safe haven for the refugees fleeing the war, but left when the king had summoned her to serve as bodyguard and nursemaid for his infant daughter. Impa rarely spoke of the place where she'd grown up, and when she did, it was with a kind of weary, lingering sadness.

"I have allies there. People I know and trust. We must warn them of Ganondorf's treachery. They can give us some supplies and a safe place to rest while I work with them to organize some kind of resistance. We can stop him before it is too late, Princess."

Zelda fingered a clump of hair that had fallen into her lap. "Maybe," she agreed dully. "But my father will still be dead."

Impa let out a long breath, and made the final cut, then ran her fingers through Zelda's hair to shake out the loose strands. Zelda raised her hands to her head, feeling the choppy locks that reached just halfway down her neck, spikey as a hedgehog.

"I should have saved your father," Impa said flatly.

"He should have believed me about Ganondorf," Zelda pointed out, voice brittle. She stood up to face Impa, yanking on the too-big boots and pulling up the hood of her cloak. "That's not your fault. Let's go, Impa. We have a kingdom to save."

.

.

.

"Hear the news?" muttered a man outside the window, leaning against the wall of Impa's home to keep out of the rain.

"It's awful, just awful," replied the woman next to him. "Why would anyone want to harm the king? And all those people in the castle…dead overnight…"

"Those damn desert savages," the man said harshly, spitting onto the ground.

"What happened to the princess? Our poor Zelda…"

"No one knows where she is. Sad to say, but my guess is that she's dead. Don't think that little girl could escape Ganondorf when even the soldiers are dead."

"Then we have no ruler," the woman said fearfully.

"We have a ruler," the man answered bitterly. "We got Ganondorf."

"Oh, goddesses. What will happen to Hyrule?"

"I don't know," the man grunted. "I do know the smith won't be happy if we hold up these deliveries any longer. Let's go."

Zelda listened to the two of them splash away into the rain, and scraped up the remaining bits of the stew in her bowl. They had just confirmed her suspicions—Ganondorf had really killed everyone in the castle—her patient, lovely ladies-in-waiting, the tutors who had taught her everything she knew, the nobles on her father's council who always listened to what Zelda had to say, the cook with her harsh words and her soft heart, the kind old librarian who spent hours discussing books with her. Everyone, everyone Zelda had ever known.

For a moment, the grief was like a stone weight pressing down on her shoulders, making it hard to breathe. She wanted to cry, but she thought her tears must have dried up after the horror of the previous night. But beneath the burden was anger; anger that wouldn't let her stay still.

She stood up, letting the empty bowl clatter onto the table. Impa had told her to stay put, but she pushed through the door to the adjoining room, where a heated argument was taking place over a big wooden table. Impa and her associates froze and fell silent, their eyes fixing on Zelda as she said, "We have to get those people out of Castle Town."

"Carmine," Impa said in warning. She'd introduced Zelda as an orphan from the streets who was training as a Sheikah. It was still strange to look at Impa in disguise—she'd used magic to turn her hair and eyes brown, though her face remained mostly the same sans the tattoos under her eyes. Her Sheikah features would have been too recognizable.

"We don't have time for argument!" Zelda retorted hotly. "There are lives at stake."

The woman next to Impa folded her arms, all hard muscles and scars—she'd been a soldier before leaving the army to form her own fighting force. "Do you know what the word 'mercenary' means, girl?" When Zelda opened her mouth to answer, the woman cut her off. "It means my band requires money before we go anywhere and risk our asses. Unless you got a big purse of gold in your pockets right now, I can't do anything."

"What about compassion, then?" snapped the captain of Kakariko's guard. "I know you aren't heartless. We aren't making a strike on the Gerudo—we're trying to save people."

"It seems there's been a split in Ganondorf's forces," another man said, spreading his long hands on the table. Impa had told her that he was an information broker; that he could find out anything he wanted. "Some of the Gerudo were displeased with how Ganondorf handled the coup. It seems they have a kind of code—honor amongst thieves, as it were. They didn't sign up for slaughtering innocents. Many of them have deserted and returned home; the rest are mostly gathered in the castle."

"Then…it could work," Impa said reluctantly. "If we go under the cover of night, get those people out as fast as we can…Ganondorf would be made a fool."

"My guards and I are in," the captain said immediately. "We won't stand by and let this atrocity continue."

The broker gave a sharp smile. "My agents will take out what Gerudo they can, and spread word among the people to ready themselves. We'll try to clear you a path."

All eyes turned to the mercenary. She scoffed. "Don't expect me—"

Zelda yanked back her hood and shook out her blonde hair, short as it was, and met the woman's eyes. "Do you have anyone you care about?" she demanded. "Parents, siblings, a lover, a son or daughter? What about your warriors? If we let Ganondorf seize all of Hyrule as he seized my castle, they will all be endangered. They will all be poor and desperate. Or they will just be _dead_ , like my father. Ganondorf doesn't know the meaning of mercy."

The mercenary stared at her, wide-eyed. "Princess Zelda?" she said in an awed hush. Impa smacked her hand to her forehead exasperatedly; the guard-captain fell to his knees before Zelda.

The information broker just smirked and looked at Impa. "You didn't really think you could hide anything from me, did you?"

"When all this is over, I swear you will be compensated," Zelda promised. "For now…find it in your heart to help us. Please."

" _Fine_ ," the mercenary growled. Zelda almost curtsied before she remembered she wore no skirts; instead, she offered her hand. The mercenary shook it, and gave her a brief grin.

"We have no time to waste," Impa said. "We're moving tonight."

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.

.

Muffled gasps sounded from atop the wall, then three splashes as the mercenaries shoved Gerudo's bodies into the moat. Zelda grimaced and held onto Impa's hand tightly, her heart thumping in the dark quiet. She heard the slithering of rope as the mercenaries reeled in their grappling hooks, and after a moment the drawbridge creaked down. Slowly, Castle Town came into view, illuminated only by a few braziers lining the streets.

Zelda couldn't stop her sharp intake of breath as she took in the toppled market stalls, the broken statue of the royal crest that had crowned the fountain, and the oppressive silence that hung over the town—in twenty-four hours, her home had become unrecognizable. What could Ganondorf do, given more time?

"Come, Princess," Impa murmured, pulling her along as the Kakariko guards and the mercenaries moved across the bridge. Both the captain and the mercenary chief were giving their people orders as Impa and Zelda slipped away, stealing swiftly and quietly through the back alleyways. Impa had vehemently protested Zelda's desire to go to the Temple of Time, but eventually, she had seen how important it was to find out what had happened to Link and the precious items he carried.

Zelda squeaked as she tripped and fell to the ground, losing hold of Impa's hand. Her guardian was beside her in an instant, pulling Zelda upright. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Zelda reassured, brushing off her clothes and looking behind her. "But what was…"

The stench hit her then, and she gagged, her stomach roiling as she realized what had tripped her. A dead man sprawled in the alley, his back against the wall of a building, his head lolling to the side at a nearly comical angle. Zelda had just enough time to see her family's crest on the uniform he wore before Impa yanked her around by the shoulders.

"Impa," she gasped, stumbling away from the corpse. "That's…that was…" Zelda braced a hand against the wall as she retched, Impa gathering her hair away from her face and rubbing her back.

Even when her stomach was empty, she couldn't calm down, she couldn't stop shaking—because she had _known_ that man. He had often accompanied Zelda when Impa was otherwise occupied; his name had been James. He'd told Zelda about his daughter, who was close to her age— _but not much like you, Princess,_ he'd said with a fond chuckle. _She's always getting into trouble, my Abby. Always giving her mother and I grief._ Sometimes, he would bring Zelda sweets from his wife's bakery.

" _Why_?" she whispered. "Why is this happening?"

"I don't know, Princess," Impa replied. "But I do know that we can stop it. We can get past this. Are you well enough to walk? We must keep moving."

Zelda nodded grimly and shoved away from the wall, her steps hurried as she walked away from the dead body. The Temple of Time was just beyond the opening of the alleyway, a giant, hulking shape in the darkness.

The doors' hinges whined as Impa pushed them open. Zelda hadn't been here since that first time, years ago, when she'd snuck out of the castle as a little girl. How faraway the wonder of that day seemed now, when the smell of death hung over the city like a storm cloud.

"Hello?" she called hesitantly, her voice echoing back to her in the large chamber. "Link?"

"He is here, Your Highness," answered a voice, worn by age but strong and wise. "Yet, not in the way you long for."

Impa put a protective hand on Zelda's shoulder. "Show yourself!" she barked.

Gentle blue light flooded the temple, light the color of the sky. When Zelda's vision cleared, an elderly man in orange robes stood before her in the center of the Triforce carved onto the floor. He rubbed at his white beard, frowning deeply; she could see kindness in her eyes, but graveness as well.

"I am Rauru, the Sage of Light. And you are the one who will lead us all." Zelda's eyes widened as he stepped closer to her, lowering his head in a bow of respect. "We have much to discuss, Princess Zelda."

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* * *

 **notes:** Sorry this took so long to get out! And thanks for reading, as always!

 **disclaimer:** Zelda is not mine.


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